


Arrival

by serafina20



Series: Inevitable [11]
Category: Prison Break
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-28
Updated: 2011-01-28
Packaged: 2017-10-15 04:44:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/157158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serafina20/pseuds/serafina20
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lincoln and LJ arrive in Panama.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Arrival

Soft, wet kisses rained down on Alexander's skin, drawing him from the land of Nod. Warmth spread through his body. Arousal made him heavy, happy. Safe.

Until he remembered what day it was.

Judgment day.

"Morning," Michael whispered. He draped himself over Alexander's back. Kissed his neck.

Alexander rolled over, Michael in his arms. "Morning." He slid his hands into Michael's hair, pulled him down and kissed him gently.

"You okay?" Michael moved on top of him, straddling his body. He lay his head on Alexander's shoulder.

Three weeks and even though he didn't have the tattoo memorized yet--that would take the rest of his life, God willing--he could find his favorite parts. Down Michael's spine. Around the outside of the demon. Skirting the edge of the scar. Over Michael's shoulder blade and back up the back of his arm.

"I'm fine," he replied as he pet Michael. "Fine. It's going to be okay."

"It is going to be okay," Michael agreed. He picked up his head and kissed Alexander on the chin. "It'll be fine. I'll just sit down with Lincoln and LJ and explain to them about everything. You and me and my past. And how we feel about each other. They may not like it, but they'll accept it. And then you'll come back from the city, and we'll all sit down for dinner and they'll get to know you."

Alexander wasn't so convinced, but, then, neither was Michael. Not really. Alexander could read it in his eyes. In the way his fingers moved over Alexander's body restlessly.

With any other man--or woman--Alexander would know how to calm them down. With Michael, sex wouldn't work. It would only do one of two things: rile him up so much he wouldn't be able to calm down by the time Lincoln and LJ arrived, or he'd be so relaxed Lincoln would suspect Michael of being drugged.

"What time is it?" Alexander asked. He reached up and rubbed Michael's cheek with the back of his hand.

Michael sighed, eyes fluttering shut. He leaned into the caress like a cat. All that was missing was the purr.

"It's about eight."

"About?"

"Give or take."

"And they're coming..."

"After ten." Michael's eyes opened. "I'm sorry about last night."

Alexander frowned at the non sequitur and cast his mind back to the night before. Michael had worked all day, finishing up some outstanding appliance orders, while Alexander had cleaned the apartment and Lincoln and LJ's rooms. They'd both been tired. After dinner, they'd played a rather intense game of Scrabble (Alexander won) and went to bed.

"For... throwing the game?" he hazard. Whenever he beat Michael at anything, he was never sure if he'd actually won or if Michael had allowed him to win.

Michael laughed. "I didn't throw the game. You were just better than I was. I meant I'm sorry I wasn't in the mood last night. To, you know." Even after three weeks, he still blushed. "To have sex. But I am right now."

Alexander pulled Michael's head down to his. Their mouths came together.

Michael moaned. His body jerked against Alexander's. Underneath his boxers, he was hard.

"This is a surprise," he gasped.

"I want you." Michael kissed down Alexander's face, to his ear. His mouth was hot around Alexander's earlobe, sending shivers through his body. "I don't want to miss you." He wiggled on Alexander, shimming out of his underwear.

Alexander did the same, tossing them onto the floor. "It's not as if this will be our last night together," he said, not feeling an ounce of conviction in his statement. Lincoln was going to kill him and LJ would probably dance on his grave. This was his last chance to have sex with Michael. Ever.

Michael rutted against Alexander wildly. His head was thrown back, eyes closed, mouth opened in total abandoned. His cock was hard, pulsing against Alexander's.

"Michael," Alexander moaned. He dug his fingers into Michael's buttocks and let Michael take control. Set the rhythm.

The bedsprings squeaked with every movement. Alexander had to brace himself against the wall to keep his head from smacking into it. He thrust his hips against Michael's, the contact sending scorching waves through his body. His head spun. His stomach squeezed. His body tingled at the rough awakening it was receiving, and he loved ever minute of it.

"Oh. Of fuck ohfuckohfuckoh fuck," Michael swore suddenly. He came on Alexander's stomach, the warm, wetness spreading between them.

"Jesus, you're beautiful when you come," he couldn't help saying breathless, no matter how cliche a sentiment it was.

Michael smiled and rolled his eyes. His cheeks were pink from exertion, slick with sweat.

"Wanna try something?" he asked breathlessly.

"What?"

Michael leaned over Alexander to the nightstand. Pulled out a condom and the lubricant.

"Michael..."

"No, I want to do this," he said. He ripped the condom open and rolled it onto Alexander's cock. "Really." Deftly, he flipped open the tube, some onto his fingers, then reached underneath him.

"Oh Jesus fucking Christ," Alexander breathed, watching as Michael slid two fingers into himself. His cock leapt at the sheer eroticism; he grabbed it at the base, squeezing, and breathed, trying to talk himself down from coming prematurely.

Michael's face was screwed up, whether from pain or concentration, Alexander didn't know. He didn't want to ask, just wanted to allow Michael to continue where he was headed.

But he had to.

"Michael, are you..."

"I'm fine." He squeezed another handful of lube onto his hand and slicked it over Alexander.

And then Michael rested his hands--one sticky, one not--on Alexander's chest--which was sticky with drying semen--and slowly--oh so excruciatingly slowly--sank down onto his cock.

White, perfect teeth sank into a full lower lip. Michael's eyes squeezed tight. He whimpered with each centimeter that entered his body, growing louder and louder as he sank further.

The pleasure was so intense, Alexander saw spots. Michael's body gripped around him tightly. He slid in so easily, no resistance, Michael opening to him, welcoming him, drawing him further inside.

He was incoherent by the time Michael was fully seated on his body. Unable to respond to the smug grin. Unable to say anything. Unable even to move or to wonder where Michael--his Michael, who collapsed into a relaxed puddle of goo after a handjob--was finding the energy to fuck Alexander into the mattress.

All he could do was lie there. Gaze blearily at the god impaled on his cock and drift on waves of pleasure.

And then Michael began to move.

Once, long ago, Alexander had had an argument with a lover as to whether the person on the receiving position during sex could fuck the other. Alexander, whose second wife was very accomplished at this, insisted it was possible. His lover, vastly less experienced, had laughed at the very idea.

Alexander had proceeded to fuck him from the bottom position. He'd never satisfactorily had the favor returned.

Until now.

It was impossible to keep a train of thought. His eyes crossed under closed eyelids. His hands squeezed Michael's hips with bruising force. His back arched, strained. His head whirled. His groin tightened and swelled, cresting towards completion.

"Shit!" Michael suddenly shouted.

Alexander opened his eyes. Michael's neck was thrown back, mouth open as he came again, weakly this time. His body squeezed around Alexander, tightened beyond control.

He came. So much of himself was swept up in the pleasure of the moment, he couldn't tell if he made a sound. It didn't feel like it; every part of himself was focused inward, on the turmoil and fire and sparks, all of which he saw behind his closed eyelids.

The world grayed out. Silence rang in his ears. He floated on nothing. Just... drifted.

* * *

The first thing Alexander saw when he drifted back into his body was Michael's face looking insufferably pleased.

"Welcome back," Michael said. He was stretched along Alexander's side, stroking his fingers up and down Alexander's chest.

He thought a moment. Gathered words together. Managed to say, "Wow."

Michael beamed.

"No, really. Wow. Where the hell did that come from?"

"When properly motivated, I can turn some of my energy into sexual prowess." He ran his finger around the rim of Alexander's naval.

He pulled Michael on top of him and kissed him deeply. "I have a new favorite position," he said. He stroked Michael's cheek. "Watching you on top of me, moving like that, working us harder and harder... it was one of the hottest things I've ever seen."

"We'll have to try it again. Soon." Michael nipped Alexander's jaw. Kissed down to his neck.

Underneath the blanket of lethargy, the tiniest spark of arousal lit. If Michael had already found the energy to go twice...

"Michael, what time is it?"

Michael groaned softly and raised his head. "Eight-thirty." He dropped it back to the bed, eyes closed, body boneless.

Lincoln was going to kill Alexander in painful and creative ways for reducing his brother to such a state. First, he'd kill Alexander for drugging his brother. Then, when he found out what Alexander had really done, he'd kill Alexander again.

Either way, he was deader than dead.

Might as well face his last day showered and dressed.

"I should shower," he said. He pulled Michael to him and pressed his face into the soft black hair. Michael was letting his hair grow out of the perpetual buzz cut, and it was amazingly soft. Alexander loved rubbing his face or hands over it.

"Yeah," Michael agreed. He didn't lift his head off Alexander's chest, just lay there, boneless.

"I should get dressed, too."

"Yeah."

Neither moved.

Alexander ran his hand down Michael's spine. "This is bad. We're going to get caught naked in bed by your brother."

"We have time. It's only eight thirty. They're not coming for another hour and a half." He snuggled against Alexander.

"I need to shower."

"No you don't."

"I stink."

Michael sniffed. "It's not that bad."

He laughed. "I can smell myself. It's not a pleasant smell."

"No one will notice."

"No one will notice me smelling like B.O. and sex?"

"Meh."

His stomach growled. "I need to eat before I leave, too."

"No you don't." Michael pulled the blankets over them.

"I'm hungry."

"No, you just think you're hungry." He draped his leg over Alexander's. "The mind is a very powerful thing. You can convince yourself of almost everything, even if you're hungry when you're not."

He smiled and shook his head. "Are you drunk? Because I thought you would be more concerned for my welfare."

Michael titled his head back so he could look at Alexander without raising it. "You're comfortable," he whined. "I don't want to get up."

"I'm beginning to see why Lincoln has sworn off raising teenagers. Maybe you were difficult."

"I was a perfect angel."

Alexander smacked him on the butt.

Michael laughed. "Okay, okay." He pressed a kiss against Alexander's neck. "I'll make you breakfast. And you shower. You really stink." He laughed when Alexander smacked him again. Then he climbed out of bed, leaving a cold bed and Alexander alone, wrapped in clammy sheets.

Alexander started to sit up. Every muscle in his body ached.

He groaned and lay back.

"What, you just going to lay there all day?" Michael asked. He pulled his boxers back on. "You're going to get caught."

"I think I pulled something."

"Really?"

Alexander took stock of his body. "No. No, not really." He sat up, groaning as he did. "Christ, I'm getting old."

"Dirty old man." Michael came over and kissed him. "You sure you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." He put his arms around Michael. "The shower will help." He kissed Michael on the cheek. "Eggs?"

"Just the way you like them." Michael kissed him one more time and then let him go.

The shower did help. Some of the soreness from the morning workout faded under the warm jets. He emerged feeling mildly more human and less sex-drunk and old. Old and creaky.

Toothpaste, mouthwash and a shave also did wonders for him. He wasn't one hundred percent, but he was ready to face the day. Face the brother.

He took his medication. Combed his hair and left the bathroom.

"Two soft boiled eggs with toast smushed up in it, buttered, with two shakes of salt," Michael announced when Alexander came back into the room. He brandished the bowl with a flourish and set it on the table.

"Barefoot and in the kitchen. Just the way I like my men," Alexander said. He kissed Michael and sat down. "Are you joining me?"

"I need to brush my teeth," he replied. "Maybe take a shower." He sniffed under his armpit. "I may stink."

"Never. Not you," Alexander deadpanned.

Michael smiled impishly and disappeared into the bathroom.

He hadn't been this... domestic in years. And even then, at the end, it hadn't been comfortable domesticity. Not like this. Two people, living in the same space, occupying with simple, minor adjustments to their own rhythms to dance in each other's lives.

There was a knock at the door.

Alexander froze. Visitors at their apartment were very rare. There was an exit that lead out to the street, but no one used it. Not usually.

Another knock.

He stood up, set his fork down, and went to the door.

"Hey, Mik...." Lincoln's words died. His face twisted.

Alexander was able to step back, but not far enough. Lincoln had him around the throat.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" he shouted. He swung Alexander around and slammed him against the door frame.

"Dad?" he heard LJ say. Saw him squeeze past Lincoln and into the apartment.

"I told you to stay away from my brother, you asshole!" Lincoln squeezed.

He grabbed Lincoln's hand and tried to pull it away. "Michael!" he rasped. All the pain that had left his body came back, centered around his spine. Tears pricked in his eyes.

"Lincoln? What are you doing here?" Michael asked. "You're not supposed to be here for another hour!"

Michael Scofield, ladies and gentlemen, completely missing the point.

Without pulling his eyes from Alexander's face, Lincoln answered, "We got in earlier than expected."

Michael didn't reply.

Still fighting for air--Lincoln wasn't choking him so much as using his neck as a convenient handhold, but the pain in his back was enough to make air a problem--Alexander looked over at Michael. He looked frozen, standing a few feet away, dressed in his boxers, a towel clutched in his hand. He was just standing there, looking at the scene before him, wide-eyed.

Michael had once tried to describe to Alexander the way he perceived the world around him. How he saw things in an almost double vision: the parts and the whole, all at once. How he always had a choice: either concentrate on the parts, figuring out how a thing or event worked, or take in the whole. And his mood affected the choice he made.

When Michael was calm, and everything was going well, it was easier to dismiss all the little parts. The ins and outs. The details. To concentrate on people or an object as a whole or the situation as it played out.

But when he was shaken or upset, he got lost in the little things. Wandered through details, seeing every opportunity, every nuance, every bit of what was going on. And from all the data he was able to gather in an instant, there was a chance that he'd get lost in all the possibilities and outcomes.

He had a deer in headlights look on his face right now. Eyes wide, panicked. Scattered and lost in his thoughts.

Alexander tugged at Lincoln's arm again. "Michael. Michael, please snap out of this."

"What the hell gives you the right to talk to him?" Lincoln asked.

Tried not to answer with something really inappropriate.

"Dad," LJ said. "I really think you should let him go."

"Do you know who this is?"

"Yeah, Dad, I do. It's the FBI agent. But he's gotta be here for a reason, and I think he's Uncle Mike's guest. It's bad form to choke guests."

Lincoln squeezed, cutting off Alexander's air supply just for a moment. Then, he let go and stepped back. "Talk."

Alexander was unable to stop the groan when he pulled away from the door. His back felt bruised. Painful. His throat hurt. Blood pounded in his temples.

He coughed and rubbed his throat. "Thank you," he rasped.

LJ was leaning against the wall by the bed. He had, Alexander noticed, pulled the drapes around the bed. Thank God; he and Michael hadn't cleaned up from this morning.

"I'm not here to hurt your brother," Alexander said.

"He's my lover," said Michael quite suddenly.

Lincoln whirled. "He's what?" He couldn't have sounded more shocked than if Michael had announced he was pregnant and running away to join the circus.

Michael blinked. "My lover. I love him. He lives here with me." He set his jaw. "And if you have a problem with that, then you can just leave."

"What?"

LJ came off the wall and crossed to Alexander. "Why don't we go for a walk?" he said, hand on Alexander's elbow.

"I don't know if..."

"Go, Alex." Michael glanced at him and nodded. "It's okay."

LJ tugged at Alexander. With a final glance at Michael, he let himself be pulled from the room.

As soon as the door closed, Lincoln started shouting.

"Yeah, they'll be at it for awhile," LJ said, looking amused. "Dad and Uncle Mike really know how to fight, you know? At least when Uncle Mike really sets his mind on something."

Alexander nodded, not really paying attention to what LJ was saying. His focus was divided between the muffled shouting upstairs and the pain in his back.

"You okay?" the kid asked.

"Reasonably so," Alexander decided on. He sat on the step. "You don't seem as angry at me as I'd feared."

LJ shrugged. "You are definitely not my favorite person in the world. But, you were just doing your job. And, in the end, you did the right thing. Hard to hate someone who does that, right?" He sat next to Alexander. As he did, he opened his mouth, like a reflex, revealing a tongue ring. He toyed with it a moment, before glancing at Alexander and saying, "You hurt him, I hurt you."

Alexander nodded. "Understood. And I won't."

"Good."

* * *

"You're not even gay," Lincoln said. He'd stopped shouting, but his voice was no less and intense. And the tone he used... it was that one that had always managed to reduce Michael to tears when he was a kid, making him feel as if he'd done something very, very wrong.

Even now, he wasn't completely immune.

"That's not true," he said. He looked down at the floor. "Not completely."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I've always been kind of... gayish. Bi. Or whatever, I don't know." He looked up at Lincoln. "I've been lying to you about me for my whole life. I didn't have sex with Jennifer after prom when I was sixteen. I didn't have sex with anyone until I was twenty-two."

"What?"

"I made everything up," he said simply, meeting Lincoln's eyes. "All of it. The parties, the women, the sex. It never happened. I've been with three women, total, in my life. I've had one serious girlfriend. It lasted a little over a year. I've had two boyfriends, but they didn't last very long. Other than that, I've been celibate my whole life."

Lincoln was looking at him like he'd never seen Michael before. And, really, maybe he never had. Lincoln had always seemed to have this vision of Michael that wasn't based on reality. And Michael? Michael had always done his best to live up to it, or at least pretend to.

"I need to sit down." Lincoln pulled a chair from the table and sank into it. He rubbed his face, looking weary. "Why would you lie to me? And about something like this?"

Michael sat on the arm of the couch. "You were always so big on being normal. Fitting in. Being like everyone else. And you obviously loved sex, you know? I felt that if I didn't have sex, I was letting you down. Making you unhappy."

"So why didn't you just sleep with someone?"

"I didn't want to. I wasn't attracted to anyone enough, wasn't comfortable enough with myself. And I wasn't interested."

"Weren't interested? You were a teenage boy."

"A teenage boy with a really low sex drive. Rare, I know, but it does happen. It wasn't until I met Deborah that I finally got what everyone was talking about. That I was sexually attracted to someone, not just appreciative of their looks."

Lincoln sighed. "I would have understood."

"No, Linc, you wouldn't have. I don't think you would have." Michael shrugged. "And it's okay. I'm fine, just, it's awkward now. Because I love Alex and I really need you to be okay with that."

Lincoln looked pain. "I don't know if I can be. The man chased us across the country. Put my son in prison. Made our lives a living hell."

"He had to. It was his job," Michael said. "And, yeah, it was hard on us, but we did break the law. Alex was pursuing justice, which is noble."

"Yeah, but, I just can't shake the feeling that he was corrupt."

Michael shook his head. "Not corrupt. The company did blackmail him, but, in the end, he was the one who was instrumental in revealing the conspiracy. You owe him your exoneration."

"I was framed. None of it should have happened."

"That was not his fault. All he did was come after us when we broke out. That was all."

"But LJ..."

"He thought LJ committed those murders. He just did what he thought was right!"  
Michael could feel frustration welling in him, stinging his eyes.

"What about Sara?"

Michael swallowed. Shook his head. "It never would have worked out," he said roughly. "It just wouldn't have. And I wanted Alex. I wanted him from the first second I saw him. I loved Sara, but... but it had to be him." He exhaled shakily and pressed his fists into his eyes. "Look, I'm not saying he's an angel, but we've all made mistakes." He dropped his hands. "Both of us. And I love you and LJ more than anything, I do, but I'm keeping Alex. And you need to learn to live with it."

Lincoln looked at him for a long moment. "You would really choose him over family?"

His stomach dropped. "Well, uh. No. But he stays. And you stay. So. Learn to live with it." Then, stomach twisting, hands shaking, Michael stood and went to the door.

Alex and LJ were sitting on the top step, talking. They both stood up when Michael exited.

"Hey LJ."

"Uncle Mike, hey." LJ hugged him tightly. "How are you?"

"Good. You?"

"I'm real good, thanks."

"Show him your tongue," Lincoln said stonily.

LJ's eyes flitted to his father, then back to Michael. He stuck his tongue out.

Michael blinked. "Wow. Um. Okay."

"He wears eyeliner, too." Lincoln came up behind LJ and squeezed his neck. "Nailpolish, the whole gear."

"Only when I go out," LJ said, blushing. He looked very pleased with himself, though. Like this was all some kind of accomplishment or something.

Michael nodded. Glanced at Alex, who shrugged.

"Um. Well, whatever makes you happy, right?"

LJ beamed.

"Okay," Lincoln broke in. "I guess LJ and I will go unpack. Downstairs. Maybe go for a walk. Let you get, uh, dressed, Mikey."

Michael blinked and looked down at himself. He was still dressed only in his boxers; he hadn't realized he'd been undressed this whole time.

He blushed. "Yeah, uh. Thanks. I'll be ready soon."

"Take your time. Whatever." Lincoln waved and dragged LJ towards the stairs. He stopped when he got to Alex. "You hurt him, I hurt you," he said.

Alex smiled wanly. "Get in line."

Lincoln just snorted and propelled LJ down the stairs.

"Are you okay?" Michael tugged Alex to him by his belt loops. Kissed him.

"I'm fine."

"I'm so sorry." He put his arms around Alex. Held him tight. Found Alex's mouth again and attached to it. Sucked Alex's tongue into his. Twirled his own around it, needing that reassurance that Alex was okay and that he wasn't going away and that they were still good.

"Shhh," Alex soothed, backing Michael into the apartment. He kicked the door closed as Michael pulled him. Ran his hands down Michael's back. "Shhh, it's okay. It's okay, Michael."

Michael hit the bed. Fell through the curtains and pulled Alex with him. He could feel himself shaking. His nose was clogged and eyes burned.

Alex rubbed his back in small, firm circles. "Calm down. It's okay. Just breathe."

He tried. Failed.

"Michael, you need to calm down. It's over. It's over and it's okay."

"He doesn't understand," Michael whispered. Saying the words made the pain well up again. It was old, deep. Born years ago when he was a child and so desperately wanted not only the love and approval of his big brother, but the understanding. And when Lincoln couldn't give it to him, the pain had been intense. Confusing. "He doesn't understand me."

"That's not your fault." Alex kissed his forehead. "It's not his fault, either. He does his best. That's all you can ask."

Michael nodded. "I know." He swallowed, throat aching. "I wish I hadn't had to lie. It hurt lying, it hurt covering it up, and it hurts now that I had to tell him the truth. And I hurt him."

Alex caressed Michael's cheek. Low blow, because he knew by now that Michael couldn't resist that touch, that his eyes fell shut and muscles relaxed when Alex touched him there just so.

"Lincoln made a lot of sacrifices to raise you. To keep you safe and give you the life you deserved. And you lived that life. Maybe it wasn't the life he thought it was, or thought it should be, at least not your personal relationships, but it was your life. And you enjoyed it, right?"

He opened his eyes. "I did. I loved my job. My friends. I didn't need sex. I wasn't missing out on anything." He sighed. "I shouldn't have lied. I just wanted him to understand me."

"You're as unique and individual as a snowflake, Michael. It takes a rare and clever mind to understand you," Alex teased.

"Arrogant." Michael kissed him. And kissed him again. And again. "Arrogant, conceited, wonderful, perfect man." He pressed his lips to Alex's and kept them there, sucking on Alex's upper lip lightly. "God," he whispered, "I love you so much."

Alex sighed into his mouth. "I love you, too, Michael. I love you, too."


End file.
